


No Turning Back

by lossie



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, And I actually like it a lot, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I Ship It, I wrote it because I can, Romance, Set during BotFA, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lossie/pseuds/lossie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sigrid was Bard’s daughter in all but blood.” Hobbit AU, Legolas/Sigrid, mentions of Thranduil/Tauriel</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story came to me out of bumfucknowhere and wouldn’t leave me alone for the last three days, so I decided to indulge my whimsical muse for once and simply started to write. I admit that I’ve taken a lot of liberties with the canon and that I’ve changed quite a lot of things to suit me, but I think it’s going to be a fun read for you and a fun write for me ;)
> 
> There will be a bit if Thranduil/Tauriel somewhere in there, as they are one of my favourite couples right now, but the main focus will be ultimately on Sigrid and Legolas, as they are the main pairing of this fanfic.
> 
> As it is now, I think there will be four chapters in total with a possibility for a sequel if you will want one. Also, I would like to warn you that there will be smut (described in detail to a certain extent) and some graphic descriptions of violence (namely battle scenes and such), so if you’re not a fan of those, I suggest a retreat ;)
> 
> Have a nice read and please, leave a review when you are done! I would love to know what you think! :)

“ _There's a room where the light won't find you_  
_Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down_  
_When they do I'll be right behind you_ ”  
-Lorde, “Everybody Wants to Rule the World”

* * *

 

**ONE  
**

  
Sigrid was Bard’s daughter in all but blood.  
  
She had known it for years, since neither her mother nor Bard himself have ever tried to make it into a secret. Besides, if her slightly pointed ears weren’t enough to at least hint at her birth father’s identity, then her unusually acute senses and the astonishing grace of her movements pretty much spoke for themselves. She was unlike any other girl in Lake-town with her ginger brown hair and eyes in such a bright shade of green they seemed to glow even when there was no light to illuminate them.  
  
However, beauty was more a curse than an advantage to her. The leery looks some men were sending her way when she happened to pass by the taverns or the docks on her way to and from the market made her feel uncomfortable and very uneasy. She never wandered alone in the evenings or at night, afraid that one or more of them could potentially harm her. Without any friends to accompany her, she usually only ever went out of the house with her father or in the light of day, because it guaranteed that she stayed relatively save.  
  
Sometimes she wondered what would it be like to live amongst her Elven kin. Her mother, when she was still alive, often spoke about her life before Esgaroth, recalling tale after tale of the beauty of the woods and the gentleness of the fair folk that lived there. She never mentioned the names – of people, elves, or places alike – but it didn’t make her words any less beautiful. It sounded so much better than what Sigrid had now that on some days she truly considered leaving everything behind just so she could see if her mother’s stories were at least partially true and experience those wonders for herself.  
  
As it was, she had yet to actually make up her mind about it. For now, she was content with helping her foster father, Bard, and her half-siblings. She loved them, as they were the only family she has ever known, and the thought of abandoning them didn’t sit well with her, even if it wasn’t always easy to be who she was in this godforsaken town.  
  
People in general shunned her, because she was just too different. They were probably a bit afraid of her as well, if the wary glances of some of them were anything to go by. Men in general simply lusted after her body, but there was little else that interested them about her besides her beauty. Women were envious of Sigrid’s looks and cautious about the wandering eyes of their men, some going as far as to bluntly ignore her presence in hopes of getting rid of her.  
  
In those moments, when she felt like there was nothing to cling onto besides her family, she usually let her imagination flow. It took her to the woods on the West coast of the Long Lake where she could finally breathe freely and stop pretending to be someone she was not. She dreamt about being herself without restraints, because even though people knew she was unlike any of them, they weren’t exactly certain why and it was better this way. Ending up as a freak show because of her uncommon heritage wasn’t something she needed in her already quite complicated existence.  
  
That being said, as much as she yearned for some sort of an adventure and the freedom it would give her, she wasn’t really prepared for it and it showed as she tried to manoeuvre between the company of dwarves that was making her already rather cramped house seem even smaller.  
  
For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why her father had decided that it was a good idea to smuggle them into Esgaroth in the first place, so understanding why they needed to stay with them was far beyond her.  
  
She sighed deeply in annoyance as Fili stepped onto her toes on his way to assist his brother, who was running a fever and needed constant care. He was among three dwarves whose names she actually remember – the other ones being Kili, the feverish brother, and Thorin, the grumpy leader of the company – but it didn’t necessarily endeared him to her, especially when he seemed to be on a mission to collide with her in one way or another every time they were within each other’s reach.  
  
A loud noise, resembling the sound of heavy footsteps, coming from the outside made her head snap in the direction of the door. Call it paranoia, but she was not going to risk the lives of Bain and Tilda simply because she refused to believe that her father would willing put them in danger. It was obvious that he had some sort of agenda with their dwarfish guest, but she wasn’t going to play by his rules if he wasn’t even there to take care of them himself.  
  
“Tilda, Bain, blow out the candles. Everyone, keep quiet,” she instructed as she moved swiftly to the only two uncovered windows to close the curtains.  
  
“What is going on, lass?” Asked one of the dwarves, but she ignored him in favour of retrieving her dagger and the worn-out bow with a leather quiver full of arrows that belong to her father.  
  
She fastened the sheathed blade to the belt of her tunic and then put the quiver onto her back, securing it there with firm and steady hands. It was good that she had decided to forego dresses in favour of men’s wear, for it would have been impossible to do anything with a long skirt in the way. Slinging the bow over her head in the same manner as she had done a moment ago with the quiver, she moved soundlessly to the only entrance to the house. Once there, she took the dagger out and, after taking a few breaths to calm down her racing heart, she slowly opened the door to take a look at the dark street.  
  
A foul smell hit her sensitive nostrils almost immediately. She forced down the overwhelming urge to gag and instead poked her head out, surveying the eerily silent neighbourhood with narrowed eyes.  
  
Something wasn’t right.  
  
She closed the door without making any sound and walked to where the dwarves and her siblings were sitting.  
  
“I need to go out for a moment,” she whispered. “I heard something and it’s better to check what it is than to wait for it to come here. Be quiet and don’t lit up the candles. I hope that this companion of yours, the one looking for kingsfoil, has enough wits about him to keep his mouth shut as well.”  
  
“Is it really safe for you to go?” Fili asked from his place to her right. “You don’t look like a warrior, my lady…”  
  
“I am plenty a warrior,” she responded with a huff of indignation. “And it’s much safer for me than for you.”  
  
“She is light on feet,” murmured the dwarf who, Sigrid suspected, was the oldest of the lot, judging by his white beard and calmer demeanour. “And she is right. We shouldn’t wander into the streets.”  
  
“Thank you,” she said, glad that at least someone seemed to understand. “I’ll be quick.”  
  
Without saying anything to Bain and Tilda, who were probably too frightened to do anything but stare at her with wide eyes, she was out of the house and moving swiftly along the walls, trying to stay away from open spaces as much as it was possible. She stopped briefly at the first crossing before continuing onwards, her hand gripping the hilt of the dagger so fiercely she was sure her knuckles were snow-white by now.  
  
In all seventeen years of her life she had never been forced to use a weapon. Of course she had practiced, because her father thought the right training shaped the character. It was also quite useful to have means to protect yourself, especially in this world where dangers laid around every corner.  
  
Speaking of corner, she managed to jump behind the huge stack of empty barrels just in time to avoid a face-to-face encounter with one of the smelliest and ugliest creatures she had ever seen in her life. It was stomping rather than walking and it was also without a shade of doubt the source of the horrid stench she had detected earlier. She scrunched her nose, wondering if it was possible to lose one’s sense of smell because of something like that. The creature moved past her, going in the opposite direction than where she had come from, which made her mentally sigh in relief.  
  
She moved out of her hiding place only when she was quite sure the thing was far away from her. With her hands trembling with nervous energy, she continued her little patrol in peace until she, once again, came across the same gut-wrecking smell. Following it, even though she didn’t really want to do that, lead her straight into what could only be described as the quietest battle in the history of Middle Earth. She could hardly hear anything at all, which was probably due to the fact that the creatures were fighting against an elf, who was obviously a very experienced warrior.  
  
There was an occasion clang, hinting at a sword fight, or a subtle swish of an arrow as it cut through the air, but there was no shouting whatsoever, which explained why the villagers weren’t probably even aware that there was something like this happening right outside their homes.  
  
Instead of rushing head first into the fight, she decided to find a good spot somewhere above the ground, so she could shoot at the enemies with more accuracy than she would have been able to do from the ground. Her small frame would hardly help her in close combat anyway.  
  
Jumping around the rooftops as a child was something most children in Esgaroth did for fun and Sigrid had never been more grateful for the existence of that silly game than now. She knew how to jump around to make the least amount of noise, which ensured that she could aim, shoot, and move on without leaving a trace or altering anyone to her presence, although she suspected that the elf knew she was there.  
  
The fight continued for some time and Sigrid found herself easing down bit by bit with each shot she took, which ensured that she was able to hit the target with more precision. When the last of the creatures in her line of sight fell to the ground with an arrow sticking grotesquely out of the back of its head, she decided to return to the house, but before she could do it a loud thud filled the air, followed a moment later by the unmistakable sounds of a brawl. Too curious for her own good, but unable to resist, she tracked the source of it and the bow she was holding in her left hand almost slipped from her fingers in shock.  
  
One of the creatures – bigger and sturdier than the others – was holding the elf by his neck, pressing him against the wall with so much force it was a wonder he could still move around as much as he did. Putting the bow onto her back, she weighed her options, but there was really only one right thing to do.  
  
She took a deep breath, unsheathed her still unused dagger, and then she jumped down onto the creatures back. Taken by complete surprise, it wasn’t fast enough to react, and so she was able to cut its throat before it had a chance to do anything other than grunt in pain and fell forwards, slamming its ugly face onto the wall with a sickening crack of breaking bones.  
  
The elf managed to pull himself away just in time to avoid being squashed, but not before a fountain of dark warm blood hit his face.  
  
Sigrid stood up from where she was squatting over the creature’s back and eyed the elf, for the first time realizing how bizarre this entire situation truly was.  
  
“You are not a child of Men,” he said before she could fully comprehend the fact that she was actually looking at a real elf and that she had just saved his life.  
  
“Neither are you,” she scoffed, mildly baffled by the tone of his voice, which made it sound as if being a human was something one should be ashamed of. The fact that he had called her a child didn’t make her any happier. To distract herself from such negativity, a sure result of her nerves getting the better of her in the aftermath of her first fight, she nudged the creature with her foot to make sure it was really dead. “What is this thing?”  
  
“An Orc. A strange one, but still an Orc.”  
  
“It stinks, even in death,” she commented with a grimace, which made her companion chuckle quietly. “What? It’s true, is it not?”  
  
“Ah, yes,” he acknowledged with a swift nod of his head. “The smell is hideous indeed.”  
  
It was then that Sigrid finally came to her senses, at least somewhat. She became tense once again, sparing cautious looks to the both end of the narrow street as if she was expecting an ambush, which was partially the case. The other part of her wondered what would anyone think if they saw her with an elf out on the streets so late in the evening and bathed with thick dark Orcish blood to top it all. She wasn’t Esgaroth’s favourite as it was, but if someone was to see her in this state and company, she had no doubt they would finally have a reason to get rid of her as they had wanted to do for years.  
  
“We need to go,” she informed the elf and, without giving him much thought, she pulled him after her by the sleeve of his tunic.  
  
Surprisingly enough, he didn’t object and followed her with quiet graceful footsteps, gasping her hand as if it was the most natural thing to do.  
  
The walk back to her house was fast and thankfully uneventful, although on one occasion they have almost crossed paths with a group of drunk fishermen. It was solely due to the elf’s fast reflex that they weren’t seen, as he had somehow managed to pull them into a dark alcove a split second before the men rounded the corner. As they waited for the loudmouths to pass them by, she was acutely aware of their close proximity. Pressed against his body in the tight space with little to no room between them made her very aware of the fact that he was indeed a male and a quite fetching one at that, although it was hard to assess his features when he had a layer of blood smeared across his face, the left side of his neck, and even in his light long hair. Sigrid caught herself admiring his profile in what little light there was, admitting to herself in the confines of her mind that the tales about the elves’ astounding beauty weren’t exaggerated, for he was easy ten time more handsome with a blood-covered face than any men she has ever seen.  
  
After they were sure the fishermen were far enough, which took some time considering their inebriated state of mind, they pressed on and managed to arrive at the doorstep of Sigrid’s home within minutes.  
  
Upon entering she noted with satisfaction that the lights were still out, just like she had instructed. The only thing that made her less than happy was the fact that there were now only five dwarves present instead of the previous thirteen. There was also a new addition in the form of a red-haired she-elf, who was sitting by the table on which Kili laid with her head resting near the dwarf’s hand. She was asleep, just like the rest of the remaining dwarves.  
  
“Sister!” Tilda came to stand in front of her with a look of relief mixed with horror on her face. Sigrid supposed she made for quite an image in her blood-soaked clothes and holding an equally as dirty elf by a hand. Upon realizing that she had yet to release him, she did so abruptly, trying to fight the heat that started to spread across her cheeks.  
  
“It’s me, Tilda. And this is my new… friend.” She hesitated at the word, but the elf didn’t seem bothered by what she said in the slightest. He offered her a barely visible smile and then moved to the side of the she-elf who Sigrid suspected was familiar to him in one way or another. “Where are the dwarves, little one?”  
  
“They left quite a while ago. Kili got worse, so they couldn’t take him with them,” Tilda explained. “Then the she-elf, Tauriel, appeared and did something… I do not know what exactly, but I think she helped Kili.”  
  
“Aa,” was Sigrid’s only answer, since she had already suspected that much. “You did well to keep the lights out, Tilda. Now, get Bain and fetch a bucket of water for me, please.”  
  
The girl nodded her head quickly and went to Bain, who was dozing off on their father’s favourite chair. Sigrid turned her attention to the elves, noting that her fair-haired companion looked distressed by the sight of the she-elf. She furrowed her brow, wondering about the reason behind such a strong reaction to a very innocent scene, but didn’t dwell on it for too long. While her siblings were busy getting fresh water so she and the elf could clean themselves off, she started to prepare tea. There was still a lot of water left in the kettle from before, so she could start straight away.  
  
When she was done, she put the full steaming teapot and an array of cups on the kitchen countertop, making it obvious that everyone was free to help themselves to the hot beverage. She then moved to where the male elf had seated himself a moment ago with two full cups in hand. She handed him one of them without a word and sat down herself on the chair opposite to his. He accepted his tea, but his mind was obviously miles away as he stared outside through the small gap between the curtains. His eyes were glowing in the faint light of the moon as it slipped into the otherwise dark room.  
  
“Are you alright, Mister Elf?” She asked him quietly, when it became obvious that something was bothering him greatly.  
  
He turned to look at her and shook his head, but a weary sigh escaped his lips. She understood that he was either not ready or not willing to talk about it just yet, so she let it be. Instead she decided to inquire about the most pressing matter, namely the Orcs and the reason behind their appearance in Esgaroth.  
  
“They have been following the company of dwarves all the way from Mirkwood. I know not what they want exactly, but there is no doubt in my mind it cannot be anything good,” he answered. “My name is Legolas. You do not need titles when I own you my life, elf-friend.”  
  
To her astonishment, he bowed to her afterwards. It was pure luck that Tilda and Bain returned with the water just then, because she was sure she would have made a spectacle of herself otherwise. Even though she knew close to nothing about the Elven customs, she was quite certain calling someone by their given name was no small deal. In the world of Men, it meant that the other person regarded you as their equal and it was considered an honour. If the Elves were similar in this regard, she was fairly certain she had just gained her first friend.  
  
She smiled a little as she gestured for her siblings to bring the bucket to where she was sitting and then instructed them to bring her a few linens. When they gave them to her a moment later, she thanked them and send them on their way to have a cup of tea before bed, since they deserved some rest after this long day and even longer evening.  
  
Putting her already empty cup on the windowsill, she bent down and soaked the piece of soft fabric before wringing it. She started to scrub at her arms, which were still mostly covered in dirt and blood. When she looked up a moment later to see how Legolas was fairing, she could barely stop herself from laughing. He had somehow managed to make it worse, smearing the blood all over his face instead of wiping it away. He was obviously struggling with the task and she suspected that a lack of a mirror played a part in his awkwardness.  
  
For a lot moment she watched him, a small smile playing across her lips, before deciding that enough was enough.  
  
She put the linen she had been using away and reached for a fresh one. She dampened it in the same manner as she had done previously. Then she reached out and took a hold of Legolas’ hand that held the piece of damp fabric, bringing it down and away from his face.  
  
“Let me help you,” she offered with a smile. “You are only making it worse.”  
  
A few seconds of silence passed between them as he looked at her with an unreadable expression before he slowly nodded and leaned forward in his seat so she could reach him more easily.  
  
Washing someone’s face shouldn’t have felt so intimate, but it did. As the grime slowly disappeared, wiped away bit by bit, she could she more of his features as they emerged from beneath. His face was just as pale as his neck in those few places where it wasn’t bruised and it was free of stubble. His skin was smooth and warm against her fingers when they happened to brush against it by accident as she worked. Although there was a certain gentleness to his appearance, his jaw was angular and his cheekbones were sharp, which should have given him a rather severe look, but it did not. Instead it made him look even more appealing to her eyes.  
  
She felt herself blush at her own trail of thought as she moved the cloth down his nose once again, removing the last remains of blood from it. Looking straight into his bright blue eyes during the entire ordeal wasn’t probably a very good idea, but she could hardly stop herself from doing so.  
  
Even though she knew he would be handsome, since the Elves were called the fair folk was a just reason, she did not in fact expect him to be so breathtakingly beautiful. His light golden hair was marred with blood at the hairline, his face still wasn’t perfectly clean, and there was a growing dark bruise at his neck in the shape of the Orcish hand, and yet she still thought him beyond gorgeous, as strange as it was.  
  
She averted her eyes, her cheeks growing even darker in embarrassment.  
  
“I’m finished,” she announced and moved away as silence fell around them. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but it was certainly uncomfortable and she soon found herself fidgeting in her seat, wondering if it would be horribly obvious that she was running away from him if she decided to leave him alone right now.  
  
Not that it mattered.  
  
Mind made up, she briefly glanced at Legolas from the corner of her eye as she stood up and then bend down to scoop up the barrel into her arms before carrying it over to the privy at the back of the house so she could dump its contents there.  
  
It was not as if she had never seen a handsome man before in her life, since there were plenty of those in Esgaroth, but it was hard to miss the fact that Legolas was no Men, she thought, and maybe that was the reason why she had noticed him.  
  
Although she wasn’t usually one to pay attention to the members of the opposite gender – more often than not it was the other way around – she had spotted some quite becoming faces as the years went by and she slowly became aware of the more intimate aspects of the married life. She knew she was already at the age when most girls had husbands and little ones of the way, but her father thought she deserved a chance to make decisions for herself. He would never force her to do anything she didn’t want to do and so Sigrid remained unattached. Of course village gossip followed her decision to remain unwed ever since she had debunked a few decent proposals, but they talked about her anyway as it was. One more oddity wasn’t going to make a difference in the townsfolk’s opinion about her, so she didn’t even bother.  
  
When she came back to the house, she took some of the clothes that needed to be mended and returned to her previous seat.  
  
As she worked her way through the small pile, trying to forget for a moment about his presence by occupying her mind with other things, she could feel his eyes on her the entire time.

-o-o-o-

Legolas couldn’t decide why he had followed the strange _elleth_ in the aftermath of the fight, but he would wager a guess it had something to do with the fact that he found her quite attractive. He was not immune to the feelings of desire and lust, and she was one of the fairest beings he had ever seen in his long life.  
  
He observed her as she sew, nibble fingers working the needle through the thick woollen fabric with practiced ease, and he remembered the way she looked during the fight – all deadly grace and delightful agility. He had known someone was aiding him even before she had leapt from that rooftop to save his life, but he had been quite sure it was Tauriel who had decided to follow him instead of staying behind with the dying dwarf and not some unknown she-elf he had never met before.  
  
Come to think about it, she was not entirely Elvish. Her ears were pointed, yes, and there was the natural eternal glow all Elves emanated, but she reminded him more of his kind in Rivendell than those who lived within the Woodland Realm. It didn’t seem polite to ask about her parentage, since they didn’t know each other well enough, but it was clear to him that the two human children calling her “sister” were not fully her siblings, if they were ones at all.  
  
Tilda and Bain looked alike each other, both dark-haired and dark-eyed, whereas Sigrid with her bright golden-brown hair and light green eyes stood out against them like a precious stone would do when put amongst lumps of coal.  
  
His eyes shifted to Tauriel.  
  
For a long time he had been sure she was meant for him, but he had been wrong. He loved her, yes, but in a way a brother loves his sister and there was nothing romantic about it, but he accepted and understood it, and he could also appreciate it. He knew she held some affection for that young dwarf, but he was also aware her heart and soul laid elsewhere, even if she wasn’t yet ready to admit it.  
  
He sighed heavily.  
  
Love was an unnecessarily complicated matter, especially for Elves who believed in the existence of soul mates and often times were so strongly bonded with their partners that they could feel each other from miles away.  
  
A soft gasp brought him out of his musings. Apparently his sudden exhale of breath had startled Sigrid, which resulted in a pricked finger and a few drops of blood on a white tunic she had been mending for the last half an hour. He watched in a daze as she put her bleeding thumb into her mouth and sucked on it gently. It was definitely not an image he needed right now when his thoughts about her were already less than courteous as a result of her earlier ministrations as well as her alluring presence.  
  
As if sensing his gaze, she looked up. She must have seen something in his eyes, because she immediately withdrew the finger from her lips with a soft pop.  
  
“Forgive me,” he said to distract himself from the products of his too vivid imagination. “I did not mean to startle you, _mellon nin_.”  
  
“It’s alright,” she responded with a small smile, her head slightly crooked to the side. ‘What does that mean? That Elvish phrase you’ve used?”  
  
“It means ‘my friend’,” he supplied. “You don’t know Elvish?”  
  
She shook her head. “My mother died before she could teach me.”  
  
“I am truly sorry, I did not…”  
  
“You didn’t know,” she interrupted him with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. “Time has freed me of my grief and the illness took her swiftly, so at least I know she wasn’t in pain for long.”  
  
“So you truly are a _Peredhil_ then.” Her face showed her incomprehension, which made him smile. She was quite remarkable if she truly had no previous contact with her father’s kin, because she behaved in a way not unlike other Elven maidens he knew. There had been no one to teach her their ways and yet she somehow knew how to use a bow with lethal precision and her movements were unlike those of Men – fluid, measured, and soundless.  
  
“Half-elven,” he explained to her and she nodded her head in affirmation. “It is your father then?”  
  
“Yes,” she responded quietly, her hands gripping the white shirt tightly. Something in her posture let him know she did not wish to talk about it any further and he had no desire to upset her even more.  
  
“Tell me about yourself,” he requested instead and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when she obliged him after a brief moment of hesitation.  
  
He didn’t need to know everything at once, he told himself as he listened to the sound of her melodic voice, and he was more than willing to give her all the time she needed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was more difficult to write than I thought it would be and it’s all because of the action scenes. And are those the last action scenes to come? No, of course not, because I’m a freaking masochist and I like to torture myself with things that I don’t like to write. Like action scenes.
> 
> Well, at any rate, I hope you don’t mind the long wait too much. I will try my best to put the next chapter up much sooner than this one.
> 
> Also, who is excited for that Thranduil/Tauriel part I’ve promised? It’s coming to you soon, guys, just as some more saucy bits for our main couple! ;D
> 
> For now, enjoy Chapter 2 and please, don’t forget to review/comment! :)

**TWO**

 

The morning following the disturbing events of the night passed quickly, leaving Sigrid to prepare a midday meal for the guests and her siblings while she worried for her father’s wellbeing. He had promised to come home, but was yet to return and she feared that something horrible must have happened to him, since he wasn’t one to go back on his word. So Sigrid worried and all present in the house were well aware of it, if the looks they were sending her every now and then were anything to go by. Unease was settling into their very bones, but it was not only her troubled mind that made them anxious.  
  
Something has happened during the early hours between night and daybreak, but they didn’t know what and the unknown pulled at their nerves, making them stiff and alert. Sigrid suspected it had a lot to do with the missing dwarves and the elves seemed to agree with her on that front. The remaining dwarves were not so keen on sharing what little information they had, but the guilty looks on their bearded faces were enough to let her know that they indeed had at least some vague knowledge of their kin’s doings, but were simply unwilling to share with the rest. She imagined that the presence of the two elves, who were partially responsible from their capture in the woods, as she has learnt from Legolas himself, didn’t make them any more talkative.  
  
She put what little bread was left onto a wooden board and chopped it into neat thin slices before moving them into a small wicker basket and then laying them on the table amongst the rest of the modest meal. Since they couldn’t very well go out, she made do with what was left in their pantry and prepared a hearty stew from the rest of the deer meat and some vegetables. There was also a teapot with freshly brewed herbal tea, a block of white cheese, some jerky, and a few apples to share if the main dish would not be enough. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.  
  
Tilda handed out the bowls of the pottage with careful hands while Sigrid watched her attentively from her spot near the window, drinking hot tea and fidgeting with her spoon. She wasn’t really hungry.  
  
“It is quite savoury,” Legolas commented as he took his seat in the same chair he had been occupying before, apparently content to keep her company.  
  
She glanced at him briefly. A smile bloomed on her face when she saw him eating the meal she has prepared, clearly enjoying the taste of something so simple she had been almost ashamed to serve it to the guests.  
  
Her family was poor and there was never much to go around, but it mattered little when they were alone, just the four of them. They never invited anyone over to their house, because there was more often than not barely enough to feed them, let alone to offer something to others. Thankfully, the last two months have been good for her father’s trade and they had more to do with than usual, which was a blessing, considering the very unexpected visit of two elves and a company of dwarves.  
  
It was as if gods had known they would need more food at this time – as if they were expecting them to give shelter and offer help.  
  
Maybe that was why her father decided to aid the dwarves in the first place?  
  
Divine beings of lore aside, it was indeed a peculiar coincidence.  
  
“You seem troubled, Sigrid,” Legolas said after a moment of silence and she smiled at him, although it didn’t reach her eyes.  
  
“I am worried about my father,” she responded as she surveyed the room, her eyes landing on Tauriel and Kili. The she-elf was helping him eat while they talked in hushed tones and exchanged warm smiles. She wondered if this uncanny bond between them was the cause of Legolas’ reaction when he had first saw his friend upon entering Sigrid’s house. “But you are worried as well, are you not?”  
  
“Aa.” He nodded and turned his gaze to the she-elf and the young dwarf as well. “She is running away from her fate, convinced that she is doing the right thing by helping that dwarf. The one who holds her dear to his heart is close to me, a member of my family, and so I cannot simply leave her to this folly, but I fear for the consequences of her actions.”  
  
Sigrid turned her gaze away and looked at the elf once more. His brows were furrowed, his lips drawn into a firm line, and his jaw was set, the tension in the rest of his body quite obvious and clearly visible. He didn’t want to help the dwarf and he didn’t want to be here in the first place, but he cared for Tauriel and for whoever loved the spirited she-elf enough to put aside his own feelings, which she found to be rather admirable.  
  
“The dwarves talked about Erebor and I know that only evil lies in that mountain,” she murmured quietly. Legolas’ head snapped to her. His eyes widen slightly at her words, as if he wasn’t expecting her to know it, but he said nothing, waiting for her to continue. “They are going to wake it, aren’t they?”  
  
He didn’t respond, but the look on his face was enough to make her shudder.

-o-o-o-

It was the middle of the night when she heard it.  
  
The sound was akin to a thunder rolling through the skies, but deeper and more menacing than what nature could bring with its wild storms. A shiver went down her spine as it reverberated through the entire town, seemingly shaking the walls of the house with its strength.  
  
She was fully altered in a moment, the last remains of sleep disappearing from her mind at once in the face of an unknown danger that seemed to draw near with every passing second.  
  
“What is it?” She asked quietly as her eyes dared to Legolas who was already up and at the door. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard…”  
  
He turned to look at her, but his expression was unreadable.  
  
“I will be back,” he said at last before he disappeared behind the door.  
  
She rose from her chair and woke everyone who was still miraculously asleep. Tauriel was already awake and strapping her blades to the belt at her waist with steady hands. She was obviously used to fighting, a seasoned shield maiden in her own right, but her eyes betrayed her worry, which made Sigrid even more apprehensive. If someone so experienced was showing signs of distress, then nothing good could be underfoot.  
  
“Gather your weapons and belongings,” she said to the dwarves who were slowly coming to their senses, but still somewhat drowsy. “Tilda, Bain, take your daggers with you. You might need them.”  
  
“What is going on?” Bain asked as he moved to the edge of his bed and stared at Sigrid with wide fearful eyes. She could sense others watching her, waiting for her answer, and every thought she had about lying to her younger sibling fled out of her mind as quickly as they came.  
  
“I don’t know,” she responded truthfully. “But it’s nothing good.”  
  
Just then she heard it once again, much like everyone else, this time recognizing it for what it truly was.  
  
A roar.  
  
Her blood ran cold as she mulled over what type of creature could emit such a horrific sound, but she came up with only one, more or less, logical explanation and it didn’t make her feel any better. In truth, the mere thought has rendered her speechless and almost motionless, taking her previous courage away, along with her ability to do anything.  
  
“Dragon!” Legolas all but burst into the house. “They have truly awoken that damned drake!”  
  
“How do you know?” She whispered in a strangely detached voice as she squeezed Tilda’s shoulder with a hand that seemed to belong to someone else. The girl was shaking like a leaf and her face was almost white, but it was Sigrid who simply couldn’t force herself to move anymore at this point, stiff with dread as she was.  
  
“I saw it! The beast circles the sky and will be upon us soon,” was Legolas’ hurried response. He took notice of her catatonic state and walked swiftly to her. Taking a hold of her shoulders, he looked into her eyes, his own boring into hers as if he was trying to look into her very soul. “Sigrid, you need to focus. We need to leave. Now!”  
  
His words shook her out of her stupor. She blinked a few times to centre herself before nodding her head at him to let him know that she understood. Only then did he let go of her and stepped back, so she could go and fetch her weapons. The house erupted into a flurry of movement as everyone moved about, trying to locate their things and pack what little possessions they had. Sigrid decided to leave everything behind, except for her weapons and a warm cloak, and she instructed her siblings to do the same.  
  
When they were finally ready and exited the house, the town was already in an uproar. People were running about, screaming and pushing each other out of the way as they tried to reach their boats and escape from death itself, which was flying in circles above their heads and just about ready to strike for the first time. They got into Bard’s boat without colliding with anyone, which was a miracle in and on itself, and the dwarves took to the two long wooden sticks that served as both oars and steers, pushing against the bottom of the narrow ditch with all the strength they had to get them out of Esgaroth before the drake decided to do more than simply fly around.  
  
“Where is father?” Bain asked from where he sat huddled to Sigrid’s side.  
  
She didn’t look at him, too aware of what he would be able to see in her eyes or on her face. A lie danced at the tip of her tongue, ready to be released, but she stopped herself once again from saying something she would surely regret later. Then again, was it so bad that she didn’t want to see her little brother frightened and worried? No one could blame her for her words if they were spoken with good intensions behind them. The very last thing they needed right now was a child in hysterics.  
  
“I don’t know,” she whispered as she bent down to lay a kiss on his head. “But he will be fine, Bain. You know he will.”  
  
Another roar filled the air, but this time it was closer and Sigrid gathered her siblings in her arms, ready to shield them with her own body, whether it would do some good or not. A wave of heat washed over her back and the screams of the townspeople turned into a horrifying cacophony of cries and howls of pain. She pressed the faces of Bain and Tilda to her shoulders as she observed a man ran down the docks, lit on fire like a torch and with his voice distorted in his agony.  
  
The houses, the streets, the boats, and some of the people were burning with dragon’s fire. The air smelled like smoked meat and she felt bile hit the back of her throat when she realized it came from those who were dying in the cursed flames.  
  
People.  
  
There were people burning alive.  
  
_Let us live through this_ , she prayed in her heart to whoever was willing to listen as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. _Let all of us survive it_.  
  
Their boat joisted as it came to a sudden halt, almost crashing into another raft as it brazed past them. She recognized the voice yelling commends and opened her eyes to see the sweaty red face of the Master. He was surrounded by his men and stacks upon stacks of gold, jewellery, and precious stones. The filthy rat was trying to save his goods and cared little for those who needed help, more concerned with his own head and his riches to offer assistance to his subjects who were calling to him from the streets and reaching out to him. She should have expected it, but it didn’t stop her hate for this man from resurfacing.  
  
She wasn’t one to wish harm upon others and yet she hoped he wouldn’t get to see the light of day ever again.  
  
“What about Bard?!”  
  
Her eyes widened. She turned to take a look over her shoulder and she saw Alfrid Lickspittle, the Master’s faithful flunkey, as he leaned closer to the fetid governor so the man could hear him better. He hardly noticed that there were others within earshot, for he would have surely kept his mouth shut otherwise.  
  
“Let him root in this cell for all I care!” The Master replied with spite before returning to barking orders at his rowers.  
  
Her blood ran blood upon hearing those words.  
  
Bard was somewhere in Lake-town, locked in a cell and unable to escape.  
  
Her father was somewhere out there, in this hell of scorching wood and scalding heat, and he was going to die just like that man she had seen a mere moment ago.  
  
She barely registered when Bain managed to extricate himself from her hold. A foreboding feeling set in the pit of her stomach as he stood up and looked down at her with something indistinguishable dancing in his dark hazel eyes. It lasted for less than a second, but it was enough for her to know what he intended to do.  
  
“Bain…” She started and reached out for him, but he evaded her and jumped onto the nearest deck. He then rolled over, sprang to his feet, and broke into a sprint, as if the devil himself was hot on his heels.  
  
“Bain!” She yelled after him, even though she knew he would be able to hear her now. “Bain!”  
  
He was going to die in the fire, just like their father. She was going to lose them both to this madness and there was nothing she could do about it. There went her years of playing with bows and arrows, and waving daggers around. In the end, she was just as powerless as a newborn babe.  
  
Someone squeezed her shoulder and she looked up into Legolas’ bright blue eyes. He nodded his head, as if to convey some sort of a message to her, before he jumped off the boat as well, barely sparing her a glance over his shoulder.  
  
“Legolas! No!”  
  
But her voice got lost in the rucksack of noises before it could reach the elf’s ears.

-o-o-o-

He wasn’t sure what made him do it – what made him jump out of that boat and chase after Bain, thus putting his immortal life in grave danger for a mere human boy – but it probably had everything to do with Sigrid.  
  
When he had heard her scream and saw the despair on her face, his body had moved on its own. There was a need in him, in his soul and in his heart, to protect her and help her no matter what. He couldn’t understand the source of it. Just why was his reaction to her pain so violent, so powerful, and so very sudden? Then again he had learnt long ago to listen to his instincts. He trusted himself, even if said trust had ultimately guided him to pursue Sigrid’s little brother and into the fire of a raging dragon.  
  
A huff of breath escaped his lips as he ducked to the right, his shoulder colliding painfully with a wall of a nearest house, and barely avoided a collision with a bulky man who seemed to be completely oblivious to his surroundings in his desperation to flee. He was only one of many, trying to save his mortal life, and Legolas found it to be quite admirable, this desire to live that seemed to run through the veins of most Men.  
  
_There is not much of it in Elves_ , he thought as he resumed his chase, all the while keeping a steady eye on Bain as the boy pushed forward through the crowds with the grace and speed of a young stag.  
  
His kin was not used to the idea of dying. The only thing wrong with immortality, in Legolas’ opinion, was the fact that it often times made those blessed with it think that they were in fact immune to death. They were spirited and close to nature, so it made little sense that they didn’t seem to notice the Mistress with her icy-cold fingers as she passed between them, ready to snatch their souls and deliver them to the Halls of Mandos. There was no desire in them to save something they thought was within their right to hold on to forever. Not all of Elves were this narrow-minded, of course. Legolas himself had no delusions as to what every battle could mean for him, even with the level of skill he possessed, as did most of the soldiers or those who had lived through war.  
  
Yet it was quite different from the will of Men. Their lives were fragile, their lifespan so painfully short, and they still refused to give up. Maybe it was their mortality that made them so hopelessly cling to life, or maybe they were too stubborn for their own good. It was hard to determine, really, but it was surely something to admire.  
  
He finally managed to catch the boy, jumping over a particularly narrow ditch and seizing him by the collar of his shirt.  
  
“You won’t help your father by rushing into danger, child,” he admonished, completely ignoring the fact that Bain was trying to kick him and break free. He shifted his hand to the nape of the boy’s neck, pressing his fingers with adequate force to make it painful, but not hard enough to leave a bruise. Bain stilled in his hold, his entire body shaking with every ragged breath he took. “Your sister is certain of your death. You should not have run.”  
  
“I don’t have a choice!” He replied hotly. “Besides, I didn’t ask you to follow me, elf! Let! Me! Go!”  
  
Legolas exhaled loudly, thanking Eru that he had not been blessed with a younger brother if it meant so much headache and running around in pursue of hot-headed youths. His younger sister, Giliel, was a handful as it was and he couldn’t imagine what it would have been like, was she born a boy instead, except that his childhood would have surely been filled with more worries.  
  
“Where do you think your father is now?” He asked eventually and the boy stilled in his hold, apparently not expecting that question.  
  
“If he managed to get out, he will be going for the tower. I need to get him the arrow.” Legolas let him go, ready to catch him again if he decided to flee. Thankfully, Bain seemed to possess some sense about him, because he simply turned around to look at him. “If not, then he is still in the cells. They are near the town hall, in the centre of Esgaroth.”  
  
“Then we need to hurry. We will get that arrow you speak of and go find him,” Legolas decided. “I will do what I can to help you, but you have to trust me and, above all else, listen to me. Is that clear?”  
  
“Yes, sir.” The boy nodded swiftly.  
  
“Then lead the way.”  
  
Legolas followed Bain, who lead him into the labyrinth of hidden pathways and passages, which were sometimes barely wide enough for them to walk through. They arrived to the boy’s house within minutes. Once inside, Bain climbed onto the kitchen table and reached to the thick wooden beam over it that held bunches of different dried herbs, pulling something from the top of it. Legolas’ eyes widened slightly as he beheld what he was quite sure was the famed Black Arrow, the last of the set that had been made by King Thror over a century ago. It was hardly any bigger than a regular arrow, though it looked much heavier. Forged from some sort of dark metal and with a twisted steel head, it looked more like a spear or a harpoon and not any less deadly.  
  
Bain jumped off the table, his hand squeezed around the arrow so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. The boy and the elf nodded at each other before setting off to the centre of the town.  
  
They didn’t get far though.  
  
“That’s my dad!”  
  
Legolas’ eyes snapped to where Bain was pointing. There was a man perched on the top of the belfry. He was shooting at the dragon, but even though his aim was fair, the arrows never met their target and simply bounced off the beast’s scales as if they were merely twigs.  
  
There was scarcely any time to waste, so without exchanging any words, they made for the bell tower. Getting there proved to be easier than Legolas had anticipated, which was a welcomed surprise.  
  
“Dad!” Bain yelled to get the man’s attention as they finally reached the top of the tower after running up a seemingly never-ending staircase.  
  
“Bain! What are you doing here?! You were supposed to leave! You were supposed to leave _with your sisters_!”  
  
“I came to help you!”  
  
“Nothing can stop it now, son… Nothing.”  
  
“This might!”  
  
The boy held up the arrow and the man fell silent for a second before retrieving it from his son’s hand.  
  
“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion Legolas couldn’t quite pin-point. “Now go. Get out of here. I will join you when…”  
  
But he didn’t get to finish the sentence as the dragon took this moment to bring his enormous tail down upon them. The tower swayed dangerously as the top level crumbled under the force of the blow, sending chunks of wood and metal flying. One of the wooden bits stuck Legolas in the face, making him lose his balance and knocking him off his feet. The sickening crunch that accompanied the strike, as well as the fountain of warm blood that coated his lips and chin almost immediately afterwards, made him acutely aware that his nose was broken. It was by pure luck that he had somehow managed to grab the edge of the lower platform and hold onto it, which stopped him from falling to his death. His ears were ringing and the pain he was currently experiencing was unbearable, but he couldn’t very well give up now, so with the last bit of strength left he hoisted himself up on quivering arms and stood up. He felt a bit faint, but he could work with that.  
  
In the meantime, the dragon positioned himself in their direct line of sight, his massive body enough to crush the houses he had landed on.  
  
“Who are you that would stand against me?!” He bellowed, his gaze locked on Bard who was still holding the Black Arrow in his hand. The man reached for his long bow, but found it broken in half, completely useless.  
  
“That is a pity.” The fire-drake taunted, his deep voice carrying a note of malicious amusement at their predicament. “What will you do now, Bowman? You are forsaken. No help will come.”  
  
The dragon’s attention shifted.  
  
“Hmm, is that your child?”  
  
Legolas’ head snapped in the direction of Bain who was half lying, half sitting on the ground. His eyes were open wide and his entire body was shaking like a leaf during a particularly vicious storm. It was obvious that he was frightened.  
  
“You cannot save him from the fire. He will burn!”  
  
Something happened just then. It was exactly like that moment when he had decided to help the boy, no matter what. The same need to protect that child, as well as his father, arose within Legolas and in that single second of realization he knew that whatever he was starting to feel for Sigrid was more powerful than anything he could have ever imagined. He reached for his own bow, which was thankfully intact, and offered it to Bard. The man looked as him in obvious shock, but took the item without hesitation.  
  
Smaug didn’t seem to be overly concerned with this development though, even as Bard moved to the centre of the platform the three of them were standing on and aimed the arrow.  
  
“An elf, a man, and a child… Tell me, how shall you challenge me?”  
  
There was a shallow scale on the left side of the beast’s breast that Legolas could spot easily, though he highly doubted he would have been able to hit it in his current state. He could only hope that Bard was able to see it as well.  
  
“You have nothing left but your death!”  
  
Just then Smaug roared and moved towards them, the lower part of his neck glowing menacingly as he prepared to breathe fire once again. Bard released the arrow a split second later and it hit its mark. Only partially aware of what he was doing, Legolas jump to Bain’s side, embracing the boy and, in the process, shielding him with his own body just as the tower was knocked over by the wailing beast.  
  
The sensation of falling seemed to last forever until at last his back hit the icy surface of the lake with enough force to knock the breath out of his lungs and he disappeared underneath it with Bain holding onto him for dear life. His last thoughts before it happened were of Sigrid, her gentle smile and her beautiful eyes his beam of light in the rapidly approaching darkness.

-o-o-o-

“Lass, they will be just fine…”  
  
She completely ignored the dwarf who has spoken, her eyes watching the shore with a sense of purpose. Tilda, bundled up in two thick woollen blankets, was standing next to her, her small arms wrapped tightly around Sigrid’s waist. They were both waiting, as it was the only thing left for them to do, which it might have just as well been the case.  
  
It was already past dawn. With every passing minute her hope that the three men she held dear to her heart had somehow survived the inferno of the dragon slipped away bit by bit. The last of the survivors had reached the shore a while ago, or so she has been informed, and yet she couldn’t stop looking.  
  
Maybe hope was truly the mother of the stupid, but Sigrid would rather be called an idiot than give up.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder, seeking out the dwarves who were getting ready to depart and go over the lake to hopefully join their kin in the Lonely Mountain. It was a wise choice on their part, since the folk of Esgaroth were still too busy with their own affairs to pay them any mind now. Sigrid knew though that it would soon change and then the situation would probably turn nasty pretty quickly if the dwarves were still there by that time. Although she was furious with them, she couldn’t force herself to wish them ill. At the same time she had no intention to help them escape, because all this destruction and all those deaths were essentially their fault.  
  
The two older dwarves, whose names she didn’t remember, as well as Fili, were packing their meagre belongings to her father’s old trusty boat, while Kili, who was standing a short distance away, was talking with Tauriel in hushed tones. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but judging by Tauriel’s body language and the expression on her face it wasn’t a nice conversation. The she-elf looked about ready to bolt. Guilt and regret were clearly visible in her eyes as she gazed down at the young dwarf. Kili didn’t quite seem to notice it though, since he was smiling at her softly and was currently pressing something into her hand before bending slightly to lay a kiss against her knuckles.  
  
Sigrid’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected display of affection.  
  
She remembered clearly Legolas’ words about Tauriel for the previous morning. The she-elf had someone waiting for her back in the forest, some mysterious elf who was in love with her. It made her realize for the first time that Kili probably knew nothing about it and she felt a bit of pity for the poor fellow.  
  
“Kili, come on!” Fili called as he climbed into the boat.  
  
“One moment!”  
  
“Lad, we need to go now!” One of the older two said with an edge to his voice. If Kili stalled a moment longer, they clearly intended to leave without him.  
  
Apparently coming to the same conclusion as she did, the young dwarf once again kissed Tauriel’s hands before running into the water and then getting into the boat with the help of his companions.  
  
“Da! Bain!”  
  
Her sister’s excited shout brought her gaze back to the shore and away from the scene she has just witnessed.  
  
A smile broke across her face as her eyes fell upon Bard, Bain, and Legolas, who were slowly making their way towards them through the murky lake water. She held Tilda long enough to let them reach the solid ground before she let her go. The girl ran to her father and her older brother with a joyful cry, throwing herself at them and embracing them just as she started to sob.  
  
Sigrid stayed where she was. She observed the reunion of her small family with a fond gentle smile, but she couldn’t bring herself to join them as she seemed to have lost any and all ability to move all of a sudden.  
  
Legolas stopped right in front of her a moment later. He looked absolutely horrible. His hair was singed at the ends, his nose was obviously broken and badly bruised, the lower side of his face was still covered with remains of his own blood, and he was soaked to the bone. Yet, despite it all, he looked absolutely perfect.  
  
“Legolas…” She whispered, her voice coming out slightly broken.  
  
There was a moment of deafening silence that seemed to stretch on forever as they simply stared at each other. Then he reached out and his icy cold fingers gently brushed against her cheek. The gesture and the coolness of his touch were enough to shake her out of her stupor. She swallowed thickly to get a hold of herself before she took the blanket from her shoulders and threw it over his. Moving her hands up and down his arms in an effort to warm him up, she almost completely missed the look he gave her.  
  
“What?” She asked as her cheeks turned a rosy shade under his intense gaze. “Do I have something on my face?”  
  
He didn’t respond. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her so close to him that she could feel his every breath and hear every single beat of his heart where her ear was pressed against his chest. For a moment she was too stunned to react. Then, hesitantly at first, she returned his embrace.  
  
“ _Eru channon_ …” She heard him whisper over and over again to the crown of her head. It sounded like a prayer, but she was too comfortable and, at the same time, too afraid to break the moment to ask him about it.  
  
If she were to stay like this forever, she wouldn’t have complained one bit. She felt safe and protected in the confines of his strong arms. No evil could reach her here; no harm would come her way.  
  
After some time, his hands came to rest on her cheeks as he put some distance between them once again. His eyes scanned her face intently, as if he was looking for something.  
  
“Are you hurt, _lirimaer_?”  
  
“Asks the elf with a broken nose,” she said with a shake of her head. “It sounds like a beginning for a bad joke.”  
  
“An elf with a broken nose walks into a tavern…” The corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk, when she snorted. “I admit it does sound amusing.”  
  
“Right?” She moved her hands from his lower back to his chest, her fingers curling around the lapels of his wet green jacket. “To answer your question… I’m alright.”  
  
“Good,” he responded simply before he drew her in for another hug.  
  
She could feel the soft kisses he bestowed upon her brow and her temple, as each and every one of them made her heart skip a beat. Then he simply leant forward, pressing his forehead lightly against her shoulder.  
  
Time could have stopped at that very moment and Sigrid sincerely doubted she would have noticed.  
  
There were things she couldn’t understand, things that were strange and new, and slightly terrifying about this rather bizarre situation. The force of her feelings for Legolas was unlike anything she has ever experienced in her life, yet being close to him wasn’t strange. It was akin to finally coming home after a long tiring day. There was a sense of belonging, of rightness, of dreams coming true, when he held her in his arms, and she didn’t want to ever be apart from him again.  
  
_Make him yours_ , she heard a quite whisper echo her head. _Bond with him. Make him yours._  
  
Her breath hitched.  
  
Without giving it much thought, she pulled away from him, her eyes snapping open. When they looked at each other a second later, she knew almost instantly that he must have heard something similar. His pupils were dilated so much that all that remained of his irises were thin rings of bright blue. He was also panting and his hands, which were now holding her upper arms in a vice-like grip, were shaking slightly.  
  
“Sigrid? Is everything alright?”  
  
She blinked rapidly a few times before shifting her gaze from Legolas to Bard.  
  
“Y-yes,” she mumbled, still somewhat dazed. “We… Um, yeah. Everything’s fine.”  
  
Her father didn’t look convinced. In fact, he appeared to be ready to conduct some sort of questioning or start arguing with her. Thankfully, Legolas chose that moment to snap out of whatever spell they had both fell under. He introduced himself to Bard formally with a shallow bow and a completely blank face before walking away to talk with Tauriel.  
  
Everything afterwards happened in a blur.  
  
Bard was voted the new leader, since the Master had apparently perished in the flames.  
  
It was decided that they should gather up all that they had and move to ruins of Dale to find shelter.  
  
A troop of elves arrived at one point as well and one of them exchanged a few heated words with Legolas before they went away.  
  
Someone pressed an apple into Sigrid’s numb hands.  
  
Bain and Tilda said something to her and she simply nodded her head.  
  
People passed her by.  
  
People nudged her out of the way.  
  
It hardly mattered.  
  
She wasn’t aware of most of it as her eyes kept drifting to Legolas, who wouldn’t even look her way now.  
  
For the first time in the last two days she felt empty and this shallowness within her very soul made her want to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> lirimaer – lovely one  
> Eru channon – Thank Eru (an Elvish equivalent of “thank God”)


End file.
